


nobody's daughter

by the_other_lutece_sister



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, hints at eye horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 17:37:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11605557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_other_lutece_sister/pseuds/the_other_lutece_sister
Summary: Rachel calls in one last favour.pretty much picks up from where 'Icon of Symmetry' drops off - maybe a day or so later. Spoilers for Orphan Black S.5 E.7!





	nobody's daughter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [piggy09](https://archiveofourown.org/users/piggy09/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Icon of Symmetry](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11583843) by [piggy09](https://archiveofourown.org/users/piggy09/pseuds/piggy09). 



There was pain, a sharp-dull ache, but it was lessening all the time. At least, that’s what she told herself, and so she believed it. She had to. This was manageable. She’d done it before. As hangovers go, this was towards the high end of the scale, but not the worst.

Yet she still made sure her eyelashes fluttered a little as she sat up, as if she was  _ weak.  _ As if she  _ needed _ him. Rachel steeled herself as his hand moved between her shoulderblades and helped her sit up. The hand lingered too long and she managed not to pull away, instead allowing the smallest of smiles and murmuring _ thank you _ .

 

As Ferdinand fetched her tea, Rachel stared straight ahead, getting herself used to half-sight again. The pain of the wound was somewhat offset by the quiet space inside her mind. No more minute buzzing sounds. She had dreamed...what had she dreamed? Surely there had been dreams. She must have had dreams once. 

 

The hand was on her arm before she was prepared for it, and so the arm jerked slightly, but she recovered, placing her own hand over his, feeling him tremble just a little at her touch. 

 

Some things never change. Even when everything changes. Sometimes the only piece left on the board is the one you need to play.

She thought about the way Siobhan Sadler had  _ looked _ at her. 

A chance at another game, possibly. New players, old enemies become allies...

 

“Ferdinand,” Rachel’s voice was slightly hoarse, and she took a sip of tea, the hot liquid burning and soothing all at once. “We need to make him pay.” She chose her words as carefully as ever. “For this.” She lifted her hand from his arm, and gestured at her eye. At the gauze covering what used to be her eye. What used to be another leash. 

 

_ The leash is off now  _ she thought,  _ I have bitten the hand that  _

 

“And how do you propose we do that?” Ferdinand’s voice still had that sulky undertone if she listened for it, still resentful of her choosing Westmoreland over him, of her expelling him over the death of Veera Suominen, which had come more than a decade too late.

But here he was, all too eager to prove his worth once again, to tie her to him once and for all.

 

Well. Sometimes it was possible to sacrifice your last piece and still win the game.

 

Ferdinand had continued talking, blabbering the same points he’d already made - no network, no allies ( _ not for him _ ), no way to get to the island, no hope of getting close enough to Westmoreland.

Rachel let out the smallest sigh.

 

“All I’m hearing are excuses, Ferdinand,” she said softly, letting herself sound more disappointed than angry. The anger was still there, of course, but she’d had a lifetime’s experience in controlling  _ that.  _

She closed her eye, hands cupped around the delicate porcelain. She wanted to crush it in her hands. She let the next word drip so softly from her lips that it barely seemed real.

 

“Please…” She let her eye open, and she looked at Ferdinand, looked  _ up _ at him, rearranging her face into a sort of pleading. Then her gaze dropped to the teacup and she wondered how it would break, if she slammed it against the bedside table. Would it shatter into tiny pieces or leave a shard big enough to plunge into his throat. She exhaled sharply, turning it into a sob. 

 

And then he was all over her, cradling her against his chest like that would protect her, stroking her back and touching her hair again, murmuring that he would make them pay, he would make them all pay for what they’d done to his  _ bijou.  _

 

Rachel gritted her teeth and let him. 

  
  


Eventually he left, after an exhausting amount of promises and assurances, and tender touches with an exciting ( _ for him _ ) hint of claws. Rachel let herself fall back on the pillows behind her and stared at the ceiling. The slightly giddy feeling resurfaced, and she smiled again. 

It was for herself this time, so it was real. 

 

Rachel looked around the room. It was smaller than she was used to, but then it wasn’t the kind of place she would ever had stayed in. Before. Much easier to hide in one of the thousands of mid-range hotels than in one of the dozen luxury ones. But the most important thing about this room was this: no one was watching her. 

Little wonder that Sarah had spent so much of her life running, when she didn’t even have anything to run  _ from _ or  _ to.  _ She’d never known the tug of the leash. The way she had nearly  _ leapt  _ out of that elevator,  _ snarling _ at Rachel. Oh, she  _ hated _ Sarah Manning.

But she  _ understood _ her.

 

And now Rachel was free too. 

Wasn’t she?

 

She pushed the bedcovers back, slowly moving so her feet met the ground. Bare feet on cheap carpet. But they were her feet and she could stand on them whenever she chose. Even on this awful polyester blend that made her soles itch. She touched the gauze again. A bath then, not the shower. 

 

The bath gel smelt like green apples and cheap chemicals. Rachel didn’t care. She lay back in the bubbles and thought about which piece to put on the board now. The pain ebbed and flowed and she smiled, her fingers trailing along her skin under the water. The yarn bracelet around her right wrist dripped water as she lifted it up.  _ Terribly tacky, _ she thought, and pressed a finger against it, smiling wider.

  
  


A full thirty hours passed before her phone buzzed with a message from Ferdinand.

_ It’s done. _

 

_ I look forward to a private debriefing _ , she typed back, ignoring his reply, and typing in another number.

 

_ Can we talk? _

 

_ Yes 10 mins call me _

 

Rachel walked slowly, the slight limp the only thing the same as before. She drew the curtains back and gazed out over the city. At least the hotel had a view. Of a sort.

She pressed a finger lightly against the glass. Her nails were shining again, silver in the sunlight. While she had slept, Ferdinand had gone on quite the shopping spree for her. Of course, his taste was somewhat questionable, but needs must. 

She had been very specific about cosmetics, however, and now she was reflected in the window, one perfect eye, two perfect lips, ten perfect nails. Crisp white linen shirt, midnight blue trousers and blazer, wool blend. She looked good. She felt good. She felt -

 

The mini-bar was indeed tiny, but the wine was drinkable. Rachel poured the contents of the ridiculously small bottle into the one glass provided, sat down and dialled.

 

“Siobhan.” Her face tightened slightly. “Please, no need to thank me again. I would like to discuss,- ” she finally let the disgust ring out in her voice, “ - Ferdinand.” Her ear was assaulted by some inventive Irish cursing. “I know he’s been feeding you information. Yes. No, it doesn’t matter anymore.” She worked a little of the anger into her voice. “He’s been clinging to me since I was seventeen, manipulating me into a relationship I never wanted.” That much was true, at least. She let her voice break, just a bit. “I just want to be free. From all of it. Yes. Yes, he will be coming by to see you. Be ready.” She listened, sipping the passable wine. “I leave it in your capable hands, Siobhan.” She paused, feeling the friendship bracelet scratch against her skin. 

“Tell Kira,” she began, then stopped. She suddenly felt at a loss, and she closed her eye for a moment. There was a soft few words, and Rachel swallowed, steadied her voice. “Yes. Thank you. Goodbye.”

 

The phone was placed back on the table. The wineglass was drained and set down next to it. 

Just a little more waiting, just this one last piece to crown, and she would have a shining new board to play on.

 

Just one more last thing.

**Author's Note:**

> 'nobody's daughter  
> She never was, she never will  
> Be beholden  
> To anyone she cannot kill  
> You don't understand how damaged we really are  
> You don't understand how evil we really are'
> 
> nobody's daughter, by hole


End file.
